Page 98 of My UnTrue Love
“Rings a bell.”
“He had averybig hat.” Clementine frowned slightly. “I wonder what happened to Mr. Malloy. I haven’t seen him in ages.”
Bill thought it best not to speculate about the human deliveryman, who’d liked to leer at Clem right in fucking front of him. …He did know for a fact that armadillos went rabid, though. Just an unconnected bit of trivia he’d picked up in his travels.
Clem shrugged aside Big Hat Malloy’s unknown (armadillo-infested) fate. “Nobody wears a hat with your sense of style, Bill. You always look wonderful.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Bill tipped his brim at her, having a fine time. “Now, I have to go to this side of the track, which iswhere the employees work. I’ll make sure you’ve got a safe place, real close by, to wait for me. Away from all the bears.”
“They do seem to be very boisterous, don’t they? Maybe they’re having a bachelor party. Have you considered having a bachelor party? I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted one.” She paused. “But no strippers.”
He appreciated her possessive tone. “I don’t want strippers. The girl I like looking at best is already living in my apartment.”
She grinned. “You are turning into a flirt, I think.”
“Dating you will do that to a man. You feel free to flirt back, any ol’ time.” He steered her down the path, towards the starting gate. “I’ll be back from the interview, as quick as I can. You can stand right by the fence, in a place called the apron. It’s closer to me and my coyote will hear you if you shout.” The animal was tuned to her voice like a radio that only got one station.
“Oh, seeing the horses so close will be fun.”
Clem was always optimistic and joyful. She could have fun anyplace. He really did adore that about her. …It also worried him.
“A lot of degenerate types stand in the apron.” Bill warned, still not entirely happy with the plan. The crowds would be less dense, but the peopleinthat smaller crowd might be more trouble.
“I’m used to degenerate types. I work in the music business.”
“Well, I’d just as soon you keep your guard up. Camp Town is a little different than most tracks, because the horsespromenade a bit before the race. They call it a ‘light fantastic’. It lets the real gamblers check the horses out for strengths and weaknesses prior to betting.”
“Doesn’t the racetrack worry about someone cheating?”
“They’ve got protection against magical tampering. And the bears kick out anyone who swindles the old-fashion way.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, I doubt the light fantastic helps anyone’s odds much. It’s just a show for the regulars. These racetrack folks are superstitious and looking for an edge, so they congregate on the apron. Special runners take their bets up to the windows.”
“I’m not much of a bettor. I won’t lose our grocery money.” She wrinkled her nose. “Um, I actually don’thaveany grocery money, right now. I spent my share on pizza for Luke.”
Bill nodded, not surprised. He liked it when she said “our” and “we” and “us”, though. It made it seem like they were a team. Which theywere. She was the sweet, special, and kindhearted part of the team. His part was to protect her from all the evil fuckers who’d take advantage of her sweet, special, kind heart. They were both playing to their strengths.
“Don’t worry.” She rushed to say. “I can make food budgets stretch, by fixing inexpensive meals. I do it all the time. I like to cook. I make a wonderful chicken and dumplings.”
“We can afford to eat.” Bill assured her. “And you can bet on the horses, if you want. I’m not concerned about that. It’s the people around here that are preying on my mind. Gamblers aren’t trustworthy.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Some of these degenerates are criminals. Don’t be quite as friendly as you usually are, alright? Keep a low profile. No talking to strangers.”
“No strangers.” Clem made an exaggerated X over her heart, like she was humoring him. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty
The coyote took that bargain gave,
Under the moonless deep,
He didn’t know that crossroads’ deals,
Can leave a soul to weep.
Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”
Clem was a woman of her word. She didn’t talk to any strangers, as she stood by the rail of the horse track. It just so happened that shedidspot an acquaintance in the small crowd, though, and acquaintances didn’t count as “strangers.” She would tell Bill so, if he complained about her striking up a conversation with the woman.
